Of War
by CatarinaRites
Summary: Draco Malfoy decides he wants out and who better to help him but Harry Potter? Beginning at the end of 6th year, Harry must hunt for Horcruxes and prepare himself for war. Warnings for eventual Slash!  Very eventual...
1. Chapter 1

Hello! This is my very first story, ever. It's a work in progress, and I'm hoping that by publishing it I'll have more motivation to keep writing.

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters do not belong to me!**

Edit: Obviously, it's been a while since I updated, but I'm trying to get back into this story, and hopefully I'll have some more for you guys soon!

Much love! -Cat

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><p>It was late. The house on Privet Drive was silent, and the family inside had gone to bed hours ago. Except for Harry. Harry slept very little these days; he was kept awake by his dreams. Dreams of Cedric, begging Harry to take his body back, dreams of Sirius, falling gracefully through a veil, and dreams of Dumbledore, pleading with Snape before being thrown backwards off of the Astronomy Tower.<p>

Harry hated this last one the most. Yes, Cedric's death had been cruel and unnecessary, Sirius' had been sudden and heartbreaking, but Dumbledore's was the worst. Dumbledore had been a constant throughout Harry's years at Hogwarts, and all of his time in the Wizarding World. He had been mysterious and wise, intelligent and cunning, which was why his death bothered Harry so much. The man had always had plans layered upon plans layered upon plans. So where was the plan in begging Snape for his life?

As Harry sat, mulling the events of that night over in his mind again, he noticed an owl flying towards his window. He pulled out his wand and let it in. Technically, Harry was still underage, his birthday wasn't for another month yet, but after Dumbledore's funeral Scrimgeour had given him permission to practice magic outside of the school. Harry figured that Scrimgeour had just wanted to be seen publicly in the presence of the "Chosen One," but he'd take what he could get.

The owl swooped into Harry's bedroom and perched lightly on his headboard, ignoring Hedwig completely. Harry checked the letter thoroughly for curses before taking it from the bird—he had been studying from his textbooks diligently since arriving at the Dursley's a few weeks previously, figuring he needed all the knowledge he could get.

Harry cracked the seal on the letter, and immediately noticed the beautiful penmanship. The letter read,

_Potter,_

_I realize that you have no reason to trust me, or to believe what I say is true, but I'm hoping that your Gryffindor curiosity will allow you to at least read this, and please believe me that in everything I write here, I am completely sincere._

_I was forced into taking the Mark last summer against my will. He threatened my family. I know you, of all people will understand what a serious motivation a threat towards the people we love can be. I did what I did at school this year out of fear for my mother's life, and for my own. As you know, I failed in my task, and it was carried out by someone else. The Dark Lord considers this a failure on my part. I am sure he intended for me to either kill or be killed on the Tower that night. As punishment for my failure, He took out his displeasure on my mother._

_With the threat of injury towards my family now removed, there is nothing else to keep me bound to his service. To put it plainly, I want out. I know that I, of all people, have no right to turn to you, but whom else could I go to? If you are willing to help me, I need a place to stay until I have found a safe place for me to disappear to. I fully expect you to refuse your assistance, and I understand this, but the effort had to be made._

_With regards,_

_-Draco Malfoy_

Harry let the note fall from his fingertips as he considered Malfoy's plea. The Slytherin was right, he would have been one of the last people Harry would have offered his protection to, especially after his actions this spring. Despite this, Harry couldn't help but remember how Dumbledore had offered Malfoy protection, and how the blonde's wand tip had dropped. Offering Malfoy protection had been one of the last things Dumbledore had attempted. If Dumbledore would have freely offered it, how could Harry deny it when it was asked for? Harry came to a decision and pulled out a piece of parchment and his quill.

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><p>Draco paced his balcony anxiously. He knew it had been incredibly stupid to send Potter that note—what if it was intercepted? What if Phil didn't make it to him? What if Potter sent the letter on to someone else? Draco was working himself into a panic. It had almost been two hours since he had sent the owl. Hopefully he would receive a reply soon, or Phil would return without a note—which would be an answer in itself, one that Draco was half expecting.<p>

As he turned to make another rotation of the balcony a spot moving in the distance caught his eye. It was Phil! He breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever the owl brought—if anything—would be better than this interminable waiting.

Draco's owl landed on his shoulder and stuck out a leg, asking to be relieved of its burden. He quickly removed the letter, and watched as Phil settled down on the edge of the balcony. Apparently the bird was expecting another trip. Surely that was a good sign?

Draco unrolled the parchment and took in Potter's sloppy handwriting, and stared in shock. Potter had not only invited Draco into his home, but he had exhibited some intelligence in writing the note. It read,

_Draco, darling,_

_I don't have much to offer, but what's mine is yours. Come by at ten tomorrow?_

_Yours,_

_P_

Draco couldn't help but laugh. Obviously Potter had more sense in that head of his than Draco had credited him with over the years. Other than the absurdly messy handwriting, the note had been written to look as though it had come from Pansy. Of course, Pansy would probably murder him if she ever saw it, but regardless, it was clever. He flipped the parchment over and replied on the back.

_P,_

_I'll be there._

_-D._

As he sent the reply, Draco couldn't help but wonder what he was getting himself into. All he could do now was hope Potter wouldn't immediately attack him when he arrived tomorrow.

In Little Whinging, Harry's thoughts were surprisingly similar.

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><p>Reviews are appreciated! :)<p>

Edited: 10/23/12


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys! Here's my second chapter! Please love me!

Also, I'm sorry for the slow beginning, it'll pick up soon!

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me!**

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><p>The next morning found Harry pacing his bedroom agitatedly. Had he really invited <em>Draco Malfoy<em> into the Dursley's home? A quick glance at his desk where the two letters from last night still sat told him that he had, but he still wasn't sure he believed it. What had he been thinking? The Dursleys barely tolerated Harry staying in their home as it was; they were _not_ going to be pleased with the idea of another wizard under their roof. If Malfoy was going to stay here then the Dursleys couldn't know he was there, which limited him to staying in Harry's room.

Harry stopped pacing and looked around the room. He hoped Malfoy knew a few charms to make their stuff fit into the small space of his room, otherwise the two of them would be cramped. He set to work rearranging his belongings in order to make more room for Malfoy's. He shoved his bed into the corner against the wall, and his desk went into the opposite corner, next to the window, with Hedwig's cage on top. The wardrobe that had once held Dudley's broken toys before Harry banished them was placed against the wall next to the door frame, and it now held the few items of clothing Harry owned. Harry's trunk sat pushed against the foot of his bed.

As Harry stepped back to survey the space created, he saw a flash of white-blonde hair on the street outside his window. He swore, and hurriedly tiptoed down the stairs, doing his best not to alert Aunt Petunia, to make it outside before Malfoy started shouting to get his attention.

Harry tensed further as he eased the front door closed behind him. Malfoy stood still at the edge of the property, simply staring at him. Harry moved in front of the blonde, and they continued to stand in silence for a few moments.

Malfoy didn't have much with him, just the wand in his hand and a rucksack that Harry assumed held a charm similar to the one on the tents at the Quidditch World Cup that made the bag bigger on the inside.

Finally Harry broke the silence with an ever-so eloquent, "Erm...hello, Malfoy."

Malfoy looked as though he wanted to sneer at Harry but was forcibly holding his face still in a neutral mask.

"Potter," he replied, in way of greeting, nodding his head coolly.

Harry took a deep breath to brace himself for the coming conversation. He needed to be sure this wasn't a trap.

"Before I can let you in I need to be sure of a few things," Harry started. Malfoy simply continued to regard him in silence. "Firstly, you didn't want to take the Mark, but I heard you bragging about it to your friends on the train. Why would you brag about it if you hadn't wanted it?"

Malfoy stared at him incredulously. "My friends are Slytherins, Potter. Many of them have families who are Death Eaters. If I had said anything about not wanting the Mark all of my comments would have been sent straight back to the Dark Lord, and I'd be in even more trouble."

Harry absorbed this. "Okay, then. Next, if Snape hadn't arrived, what would you have done that night on the Astronomy Tower?"

Harry watched Malfoy's face pale to an ashy shade. "I don't know. I don't think I could have killed him, even if I had wanted to," he whispered in reply.

Harry nodded absently, lost in his thoughts. Malfoy's answer agreed with what he had seen that night, but he had wanted to know what Malfoy himself believed. Harry changed the subject after looking at Malfoy's gray face. "I was dead serious in the letter, Malfoy, I don't have much to offer you. You're literally going to be stuck in my bedroom with me for as long as we stay here. The family living here can't even know you're here, so you'll have to stay pretty quiet."

Malfoy looked at Harry sharply, then nodded his agreement.

"You're sure, Malfoy? I mean, I can't even guarantee you regular meals, let alone all the luxuries you're probably used to at your manor." Harry paused as a thought struck him. "Actually, we may be able to get meals...I'll just have to check that he would be able to get them..." Harry trailed off as Malfoy broke into his musings.

"Anything you could offer me would be better than living in the manor with the Dark Lord, Potter."

Now it was Harry's turn to startle and grow pale. "He's living in your home with you? Well...that's probably good to know." Harry became thoughtful again, "if he's living in your home it won't take him long to notice your disappearance. Will he be upset?"

Malfoy fidgeted uneasily. "He'll probably miss his convenient toy, yes. I don't know how upset he'll be, though."

"His TOY?" Harry asked incredulously, "What do you mean his _toy_?"

"I mean what I said, Potter. When the Dark Lord is bored or needs to release his anger I'm summoned, and he tortures me. Why do you think I wanted out as fast as I could?" Malfoy looked angry and Harry decided it was time to move on.

"Alright, I'm sorry." Harry drew his wand and performed the wand movements necessary to allow Malfoy through the wards around number 4. Moody had taught him how to strengthen the wards around the house when he was first delivered home at the beginning of the summer, but it was Lupin who taught him how to modify the wards and let people who aren't programmed into the wards in and out.

As he opened the front door for Malfoy to enter, Harry couldn't help but wonder what his friends would think of him allowing Malfoy into the Dursley's to stay with him.

...&...

Draco looked curiously around Potter's bedroom after he had humoured the man by tiptoeing up the stairs as quietly as possible. The room was practically empty. The bed was neatly made instead of looking as though someone had just crawled out of it, like Draco's usually did. There were no posters or pictures on the walls, and no personal belongings set out on the desk other than his owl's cage. In fact, the room looked more like a standard hotel bedroom than the personal living space of the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Save-Us-All.

Potter looked like he was studiously ignoring Draco's scrutiny of his room, and he had flopped down onto his bed. Draco set down his rucksack and took a seat in the desk chair and turned it so that it was facing the bed.

"Welcome to my own personal Azkaban," Potter said drily.

"Why Potter, you sound as though you hate it here," Draco replied, slyly. He was fishing quite blatantly for details. He had always believed Potter had been brought up being treated like royalty or the 'saviour' that he was meant to be. The room he was sitting in now did not fit in with those perceptions.

Potter snorted in reply. "After this year I'm out for good. As soon as Voldemort's dead I won't ever be coming back."

Draco sat leaned back in the swivelling chair and studied Potter. His perceptions of the boy in front of him would obviously need some changing.

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><p>Please Review!<p>

Edited: 10/23/12


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3, finally! Also, please forgive me for the slow going. I'm just setting groundworks and basics and stuff. Once we get to the actual story it should get better.

**Disclaimer:** These characters do not belong to me. They belong to J.K. Rowling!

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><p>After several attempts at awkward conversation with his new house guest, Harry gave up. The problem wasn't that either one of them were being deliberately rude, but more that neither one of them knew how to talk to someone they had spent the last five years purposely antagonizing. Harry lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling, tuning out the obnoxious sounds of his house guest swivelling around on his desk chair. It wasn't long before Harry lost himself in his thoughts and he closed his eyes.<p>

Snape was his new problem. Without the snarky Potionsmaster on their side the Order had lost their only connection to Voldemort. In the weeks since Dumbledore's death there had been no advance warning for Death Eater attacks, and many in the Order had started to lose hope. There was talk of putting Lupin in touch with the werewolves that had been recruited for the Death Eaters, but no one wanted that, it was far too dangerous, especially since most people knew Lupin was a member of the Order. No, what they really needed was their spy back.

Herein lay Harry's problem. Dumbledore had always claimed to have the utmost faith in Snape, and swore that he was on their side. And who could you trust, if not Dumbledore? But at the same time, Snape had been the one to kill the Headmaster, which obviously meant that Dumbledore had been mistaken in his support of the Head of Slytherin. Dumbledore had even pleaded with the man not to kill him when they returned that night. Harry replayed the memory of the Astronomy Tower yet again and sat up straight and his eyes shot open as a thought occurred to him. All Dumbledore had said was "Severus, please." He hadn't been begging for his life at all! Of course. Harry had force-fed Dumbledore poison that night in the caves. The man had been dying. He had asked for Snape before Malfoy had even shown up on the Tower.

Harry thought he understood now. It was as though everything that happened that night suddenly made sense. Dumbledore had been pleading with Snape _to kill him._ He had been _asking _him to do it. Snape's look of disgust that night had been distaste for the task Dumbledore was asking of him, and not directed at the man himself. Snape's disgust had been directed at _himself._

Harry laid back down on his bed to continue his thoughts. After Dumbledore's death he had chased Snape across the grounds and attempted to duel him. Snape had deflected all his curses easily, almost lazily, and hadn't retaliated. He had even kept the other Death Eaters from attacking him. If he had wanted, Snape could have easily killed him, or at least injured him then, and without the "Chosen One" to stand in Voldemort's way, people would have lost hope. The war would have been over before it really even began.

If Snape _was_ on their side then Harry had a different problem—how could he get in touch with the man? Hedwig had always been able to find Sirius when he was in hiding, maybe she would be able to find Snape, too? Harry nodded decisively and opened his eyes to move to his desk to write a letter, only to find a very curious blonde staring at him.

...&...

Draco watched as his host huffed out a breath and laid back on the bed after all their attempts at conversation had fallen flat. He watched Potter close his eyes and wondered if he was going to fall asleep. It wasn't long, however, before Potter's eyes flew open and he shot upright on the bed. Draco expected the boy to start talking, but instead his face split into a huge grin and he lay back down and closed his eyes again without a word. Draco was beginning to worry that his mentor's death had adled Potter's brains. He was considering an escape when Potter nodded to himself and sat up again, looking straight at Draco.

Draco saw surprise flit through Potter's eyes as they made eye contact, apparently the boy had forgotten that there was anyone in the room with him.

"Oh. Malfoy. Trade me spots, would you? I need to write a letter..." Potter trailed off and his eyes lost focus as though he were looking through Draco instead of at him.

"If you disappear into your head often my life will become intolerably dull, Potter." Draco sniped, hoping to get a rise from his new roommate, and possibly a hint at what he was thinking about. Instead, Potter just blinked at him, and Draco sighed and moved.

Potter pulled parchment, ink, and a quill from the top desk drawer in silence, still looking distracted. As he sat to write the letter, though, he seemed to remember Draco's presence yet again. He looked over his shoulder at Draco who was now seated on the bed. It seemed that Potter didn't want to write his letter in front of an audience.

"Need privacy to write to the Weaselette, Potter?" Draco sneered at him.

Potter just looked surprised. "Ginny? Why would I need to write to Ginny?" Potter went back to looking through Draco as he continued talking, "Although I might need privacy for this letter, yes."

Draco scowled as his attempt at fishing for information fell flat. Instead, he now had more questions relating to Harry Potter.

"Could you tell me where I am to go to be out of your way, then, Potter?" Draco asked drily, bringing the man's attention back to himself yet again, "I was under the impression that other than bathroom trips I am confined to this room."

"Oh, yeah, the Dursleys can't know you're here. But I can't take this stuff downstairs, and I doubt he'd even bother to read a letter written on Muggle stationary." Draco wondered what planet you had to be from to make sense of Potter's ramblings. "So I have to write the letter up here, and you have to stay up here, so maybe you could turn your back?"

Draco stared at the man sitting expectantly in front of him for a few moments before he went back over Potter's odd statement in his head and realized that he had asked a question. He turned away from Potter without a word, although if he had been a lesser man he would have been grumbling.

As Potter's quill scratched across parchment he thought of what he had learned. Potter didn't think he had any reason to write to the Weaselette. Did this mean they had broken up? Potter couldn't take the quill, ink, and parchment downstairs. Why not? Did this have something to do with his Muggle family?

Draco was incredibly upset. He was disappointed, in fact. In whom, he hadn't yet decided, but he was disappointed. Potter was supposed to be a hero! He was supposed to be stuck-up, arrogant, and spoiled rotten. From what he could tell of the way the boy acted at home, he had never been treated like a hero, and now Draco wanted to know why. He was incredibly curious, and he hated it.

After an interminable long wait, Draco heard the desk chair scoot back and a low murmuring as Potter spoke to his owl. When the owl had flown off, Draco turned back to face Potter. He scrutinized the black-haired man closely. His bright green eyes looked tired, as though he hadn't slept for weeks, and his hair stood up at every possible angle—although there was nothing out of the ordinary about that.

When Draco opened his mouth to ask the questions burning in his mind, the one that came out surprised him as much as it surprised Potter.

"So, Potter, there's only one bed. Where will you be sleeping?"

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><p>Yay, for chapter 3! Please Review! I LOVE REVIEWS!<p>

much love.

Edited: 10/23/12


	4. Chapter 4

Hello! SORRY FOR THE WAIT! I have had all sorts of distractions this month-I'm a caregiver, and spent the last 2 weeks in hospitals, so no time to write! I've been writing this chapter on my blackberry, while sitting in waiting rooms! (also, sorry for the shorter chapter!)

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I'm trying to get to the point where it's a bit more exciting! It's kinda slow at this point...stick with me, it'll pick up, I promise!

**Disclaimer:** They aren't mine!

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><p>Harry stared at Malfoy in dismay. He hadn't given any thought to sleeping arrangements when he had invited Malfoy into his home. There was no way Harry was going to enlarge the bed to share it with Malfoy - that was just...no. But he hadn't come across any duplicating spells in his studies thus far, either. There must be a solution. Maybe he could make a nest on the floor for himself from the Dursleys' extra bedding materials? The hard floor surface wouldn't bother him - it wasn't like he slept much anyways.<p>

As he mulled over the problem, a thought struck him. The Dursleys hated acknowledging his presence when he was around, it was almost guaranteed that they totally ignored the fact that he lived there when he wasn't around. If Harry was lucky, that would mean that they had left his cot sitting in his cupboard still. If he could get downstairs to check without attracting attention, he could bring it upstairs when the Dursleys were out of the house. Unfortunately, waiting until the Dursleys left would bring up more questions with his house guest.

He scowled and refocused his gaze on Malfoy, who was still staring back at him. Oh boy. He'd have to find something for Malfoy to do to entertain himself, because the staring was getting disconcerting.

"I need to find out if the cot is still downstairs," Harry told his roommate, "so don't move and I'll be right back."

Harry stuck his head out of his door to listen for the Dursleys. It sounded like Dudley was playing video games in his room and his aunt and uncle were sitting in their living room, which meant that the coast was clear for him. He slipped out of his room and shut the door behind him.

...&...

Draco watched Potter slip out of the room in curiosity. Seriously, that boy had issues. He was creeping around his own home like a thief! While Potter was out of the room, Draco took the opportunity to take a closer look at the room. He stood up and walked over towards the desk. There was absolutely nothing on the desk, except the inkwell and quill Potter had left out and his owl's cage.

Draco opened the top drawer quietly, to find nothing but writing supplies and parchment. He closed the drawer in disappointment and moved on to the next one. Books. Not required texts for school, but definitely spellbooks. There were books on healing, defence, offense, transfiguration, and charms, and they all looked well thumbed-through.

Draco didn't waste more time by flipping through the books, and instead moved on to the wardrobe. He opened it, and found nothing but clothes in it at all. This was ridiculous. The only place left to look through in the room was Potter's trunk, which was sitting at the end of his bed, and thus far he had found absolutely zero personal belongings. All Potter seemed to own were school supplies and clothes. And his owl. There were no pictures, no trinkets, no embarrassing plushies, or anything!

He turned towards the trunk, but before he could open it he heard Potter's footsteps at the top of the stairs, and threw himself onto the bed.

...&...

Harry trudged back up the stairs. The cupboard was exactly the same as it had always been, his cot-bed squished in, and the old, ratty teddy he had rescued from the trash after Dudley's birthday one year (Dudley had decided that he was too old for a new teddy bear) lying under the bed. The film of dust over everything in the cupboard was the only sign that he hadn't been there in six years. He was almost pleased that the Dursleys had left it alone. It would have been the ultimate invasion of privacy, in his mind, for them to enter his closet. His closet was the only place that had ever belonged to him and him alone. It wasn't necessarily associated with pleasant memories, but still, the Dursleys had never entered it, and he had been able to escape from reality while in his closet.

Harry had grabbed the bear before he had returned to his room, and as he stood at the top of the stairs, he looked at it carefully. At one point it had been a good-looking bear, it was one of the ones with arms and legs that rotated, so that you could put it into a sitting or standing position, and was stuffed just the perfect amount to be comfortable without being too hard.

Harry had debated bringing the bear back into his room upstairs, especially with Malfoy being there, but now that he was standing outside of his new bedroom he thought of all the moments with the Dursleys that the bear had been with him through, and thought that the bear deserved a place in his room.

Harry held the bear tighter in his hands and looked up, realizing belatedly that Dudley's video games had shut off and he was standing in the doorway to his room staring at Harry. Harry met his cousin's eyes and waited for the ridiculing he knew was coming. Instead, Dudley just continued to stare at him and the bear for a few moments.

"You kept that thing?" Dudley asked him, obviously remembering where it had come from.

"It's not like I ever got one of my own," Harry responded, bitterly, and was surprised to see Dudley flinch back.

"You hate us," it was a statement, not a question, but Harry responded anyways.

"No, I don't actually," he started with a tired sigh, looking back down at the bear in his hands. "I don't know what I feel for you. None of you have ever been kind to me, treated me well, or shown me any concern. I probably _should_ hate you. But you've had a hand in making me who I am, and I _like_ who I am, so how can I hate you?"

Harry rubbed his face tiredly as Dudley just continued to stare.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Dudley whispered, and it was Harry's turn to stare. Dudley shifted uncomfortably, then turned and went back into his room. Harry stood blankly in the hallway for a moment, then collected himself and opened his door, only to be faced with a shocked-looking Draco Malfoy.

"Crap," Harry sighed. "You heard that?"

Malfoy mutely nodded his head and now Harry was faced with another staring former-enemy.

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><p>Edited: 1023/12


	5. Chapter 5

I have been told to stop apologizing and to use less exclamation marks in my authors notes...so I will try.

I hope you all enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** They are not mine. Obviously.

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><p>Draco stared as the Boy Wonder entered his room. Potter looked up at him from the dirty bear he held in his hands and grimaced.<p>

"Crap," he said, "you heard that?"

Draco nodded silently. Apparently his fruitless search of Potter's private belongings hadn't been necessary...Potter's cousin had just given him more information on Wonder Boy's home life than he had ever been able to ferret out in the six years he had known him!

From what the cousin had said, it sounded as though the Chosen One had been...abused? Draco found himself repulsed by the idea. Sure, he had never been fond of the boy, and had resorted to a few jinxes and curses, and called him a few names over the years, but this was his family! Family was different, they were supposed to stick together, look after their own, care for him!

Instead, he had, what? Resorted to stealing an unwanted stuffed animal from his cousin in order to have one of his own?

Draco's desire to tease the boy about a plushy or his personal belongings was suddenly gone. As he looked around the immaculate room, he realized why it looked like a hotel room. Cleaning and straightening up after himself had probably been ingrained in him from the time he was old enough to walk.

Draco felt sick. There was a grudging admiration for the boy growing in him. Anyone else living in the situation Harry Potter had grown up in would have lost all the adventure, curiosity, and free-spirit they may have possessed. Instead, it seemed to have enhanced Potter's. He had gotten into—and gotten away with—more scrapes and rule-breaking situations throughout his years at Hogwarts than even the Weasley twins!

Potter's ramblings about food and his sneaking downstairs suddenly made a lot more sense. Draco actually felt sorry for the boy standing in front of him, to his own annoyance.

Draco's roommate sat down at his desk chair, still holding the grimy bear, and attempted to wipe some of the dust and dirt off of it.

"Just ask," Potter said wearily, "I know you're curious."

Draco opened his mouth to deny it, and instead found himself asking, "You were abused?"

Draco could have kicked himself. He was a Slytherin. He was supposed to have cunning, and tact, and all that. The way his mouth ran away from him when he was with Potter would get him into serious trouble one day.

Potter looked up and away from Draco as he answered, "No, they never hit me."

"There are different kinds of abuse, Potter," the blonde responded, actually trying to be kind.

"Like you would know," Potter snapped back at him, his emerald eyes flashing as his head whipped up to look at Draco.

Draco paled, thinking of the thankfully short period of time he had spent unable to escape the Dark Lord after his mother's murder.

"Yes," he replied quietly, "I would."

Potter started, and his expression changed almost immediately to one of remorse, "I'm sorry, I didn't think."

Draco just shook his head and watched as Potter continued to attempt to wipe off his bear.

"May I see the bear, Potter?" He asked, politely. The Wizarding World's hero looked at him suspiciously for a moment, then handed it over.

"I named her 'Lily,'" he told Draco, "I had heard my aunt say once that it was my mother's name."

Draco surveyed Potter a moment, a bit surprised at the freely given, and somewhat revealing, information, then nodded and turned his attention to the bear. Somewhere under the grime, Draco believed the bear was a dark brown colour, with a ribbon of some mystery colour around its neck. The eyes were glassy, a deep brown, almost black colour, and its paws had decorative stitches to show separate toes.

Draco took out his wand, and saw Potter tense out of the corner of his eye.

"Scourgify," he said, clearly, and watched with satisfaction as the cleaning spell did its work on the bear, revealing that Draco had been correct about the colour of the bear, and that the ribbon was a light blue colour.

He handed the bear—Lily—back to a surprised looking Potter. The other boy gave Draco a speculative look as he took his bear back.

"Thanks," he told the blonde.

Draco merely inclined his head in acknowledgement, a bit uncomfortable with the realization that he had done something nice for his former nemesis. The two sat in silence for a few moments, Potter staring down at the old bear in his hands and Draco mulling over all he'd learned in the last few minutes.

"My mother always called me her 'dragon' as a pet name," Draco offered, suddenly, "when I was young I used to love it. It made me feel like I was important—brave or strong or something. When I got a older it drove me crazy, and I used to pitch a fit. She'd just smile at me and ignore it," Draco paused. "My father, on the other hand, was never very affectionate. I was the required heir to him, and beyond that he didn't care about me. Well, not until I was old enough to be 'useful' to him," Draco amended.

Potter was looking at him oddly, and Draco hoped the boy understood what he was trying to do. Draco had just learned something incredibly personal about Potter, who was, as Draco was realizing, actually a very private person, seeing as he had kept his upbringing a secret from the Wizarding World. Now Draco was attempting to return the favour, by telling Potter something private about himself.

"Thanks," Potter murmured, not meeting Draco's eyes, and Draco knew that the gesture had been understood and appreciated. He cleared his throat, uncomfortably. Suddenly he was more intimately familiar with Potter than he was with any of his friends, and it was a strange feeling.

"So, Potter, what happened with the cot you were going to check for?" He asked, changing the subject back to one they were both comfortable with.

Potter shot him a grateful look as he responded, "It's still there, but it'll make a lot of noise to bring it up the stairs. I'll have to wait until the weekend, when the Dursleys are all out of the house."

"Okay," Draco replied, slowly, "and in the meantime?"

It was a Thursday, which meant the boys had to manage at least one night without the cot.

Potter looked uncomfortable. "I don't suppose you know any duplicating spells?" He asked.

Draco shook his head weakly, suddenly realizing where this was leading.

"Um, then I guess we'll have to, er, enlarge the bed and, uh, make do for tonight," Potter stuttered out, looking embarrassed.

Draco looked at his host's red cheeks and just nodded wordlessly.

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><p>Edited: 1023/12


	6. Chapter 6

Hey guys! Sorry it took so long for the update, things are pretty crazy here. I'm not too fond of this chapter...it didn't quite turn out the way I wanted, but we're starting to get close to the actual story, so hopefully it'll start picking up.

Again, thanks for reading it, please let me know what you think!

**Disclaimer:** They're not mine...they're JKR's! Except for Phil. He belongs to my sister, _PhiloctetesTheOwl_, who has graciously allowed me to use him.

much love!

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><p>Harry let Malfoy clean up in the bathroom first that night. They had waited in uncomfortable silence until the Dursleys were all in bed and Vernon's snores were audible down the hallway before sneaking out of the room.<p>

When Harry returned from the bathroom, he found Malfoy curled up on the far side of his enlarged bed, tucked as tightly against the wall as possible. Harry groaned internally at the idea of sleeping in a bed with his former-enemy.

He stood staring at the bed for a few moments, before Malfoy twitched.

"Are you going to stand there all night, Potter?" he asked, grumpily, without turning around. "I realize that I am too good to be sharing a bed with you, but if I have gotten over the discomfort I'm sure you can as well."

Harry shook his head unconsciously. "This is too weird. I don't think I can do this."

Malfoy finally rolled over to face him at this. "Potter. It's like sharing a bed with your Weasel friend. I'm sure you've done that when you stayed at his house."

Harry shook his head. "I have a bed at Ron's. I've never shared a bed. With anyone. Ever."

Malfoy just stared at the boy for a moment, then rolled back over to face the wall.

"When you find your legendary Harry Potter courage again, let me know," he drawled.

Harry remained standing at the side of the bed for a few more moments, and gradually Malfoy's breathing slowed as he fell asleep.

Harry shook his head. Malfoy was right. It was just like sharing a bed with any of the other Gryffindor guys. They were roommates. Not weird at all.

Except it was. It felt wrong. Like he told Malfoy, he had never shared a bed with anyone before. It was uncomfortable thinking that the first person he'd ever share a bed with was Draco Malfoy, ex-Death Eater Extraordinaire. Creepy.

Harry turned and walked out of his room to a closet down the hall. It was Petunia's linen closet, and he knew he could find extra bedding there. He'd used it to make up beds for years.

He grabbed a pillow and a warm blanket and returned to his room. Malfoy was still sleeping soundly. Harry moved his desk chair out of the way, and began to make himself comfortable on the floor. It wasn't hard, as his cot downstairs wasn't much more comfortable than the floor anyways, and he was soon asleep. Not that this lasted for long.

His sleep was soon disturbed by nightmares, and Harry awoke in a cold sweat, still seeing Dumbledore's sightless blue eyes staring at him at the base of the Astronomy Tower. He knew sleep wouldn't be coming again, so Harry lay silent in the dark, trying not to disturb his new roommate.

The sound of an owl scratching at his window, asking to be let in, startled Harry out of his silent contemplation. It was still dark out, and he scrambled for his glasses to check the time. 3:04 am.

The owl was still scratching away on the window, and Malfoy was starting to stir in the bed, so Harry quickly moved to let it in. A brown eagle owl flew in the open window; the bird that Harry recognized as the one that had first brought him Malfoy's letter. Hedwig wasn't far behind. Neither owl was carrying a letter and instead the two headed to the desk and began to make themselves comfortable.

The two sat on opposite sides of the desk, and ignored each other. Hedwig set about preening herself, and the new owl—Harry assumed it belonged to Draco—squawked. Rather loudly.

Harry was just attempting to shush the bird, when Malfoy rolled over on the bed, "Shut up, Phil. It's too early." The owl—Phil, ruffled himself indignantly and swooped over to perch on top of Malfoy's pillow. Malfoy felt the owl land and waved a hand tiredly at it.

"Go 'way, 's too early," Malfoy reiterated. Harry again tried to keep the bird and the blonde quite, and had succeeded until Phil nipped Malfoy's ear hard, making it bleed.

"OW!" Malfoy shouted as he sat up straight in the bed. "YOU BLASTED BIRD, STOP _BITING_ ME!"

Harry cringed at the noise, but couldn't help but laugh. Malfoy looked as indignant as he possible, wearing pajamas that were all twisted from sleep, his hair sticking up every direction, and holding a hand to his ear to stop the bleeding.

"BOY!" Harry stopped laughing abruptly as Vernon shouted from down the hall. Harry sprang up quickly, grabbed his invisibility cloak from the top of his trunk, and threw it over Malfoy and his bird. He grabbed his wand and re-shrunk the bed, then scooped the pillow and blanket off the floor just in time.

Vernon came crashing through the door and came to an abrupt stop as he registered Harry standing in his pajamas holding his wand. He managed to regroup quickly, though.

"If you cannot keep yourself and that blasted bird _quiet_, boy, I will have you out of this house so fast your head will spin!" Vernon threatened.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied, not lowering his wand.

"And put that damn thing away, boy. You can't use it here, and I won't stand for any sign of your _freakishness_ in this house!" He cast Hedwig a vicious glare and left the room, slamming the door on the way out.

Harry let out a breath and tried to calm his heart rate. Malfoy was pulling the cloak off, and looking slightly dazed. Harry raised his wand to cast silencing charms over the room as his roommate pulled himself together.

Harry was seething. He was furious with the situation that he had been thrust into, with almost all of his least favourite people, gathered under one roof. Granted, he had invited one of them in, so it was his own fault, but that didn't really make the situation better.

Harry turned his back to the bed and proceeded to ignore Malfoy's curious looks. Instead, he focused on settling the two owls with treats and on separate sides of the desk. He was actually quite disappointed that Hedwig hadn't returned with a letter. The good thing was that she hadn't brought his back, which meant Snape had received the letter, but had chosen not to reply. Why? Maybe harry had been wrong, and the Potionsmaster was really on Voldemort's side? But that didn't make much sense, because Voldemort would have jumped at the chance to reinstate his spy into the Order. Maybe Snape was busy and couldn't write a letter? That seemed fairly logical. Maybe he had no interest in returning to his position as the Order's spy? Also logical. The Order, himself included, Harry thought with a wince, had never trusted the man fully, nor had many of them even liked him. Snape had been treated horribly by both sides in this war.

Whatever the case, he could worry about it in the morning. As he resettled himself and his blankets on the floor, Malfoy continued to stare at him. Harry rolled over to get comfortable, determined to ignore the staring boy and to get some rest. He'd deal with Malfoy in the morning. After a few moments, he heard Malfoy settle himself back onto the bed, and eventually Harry fell back to sleep.

The next morning, Harry was up at dawn, as usual. His house guest was still asleep, but that didn't surprise him. Harry folded up the blankets he had slept on, and placed them, the pillow, and Lily in a corner, out of the way.

Now that Malfoy had arrived, Harry found himself worrying about bigger issues. One way or another he'd eventually have to fight Voldemort for his life, and before that he had to find and destroy the horcruxes. There was no way he'd be successful only knowing the spells taught up to 6th year at Hogwarts.

Voldemort was a fully-grown, fully-trained wizard, and wouldn't "go easy" on Harry just because he was not yet 17. Somehow he had to learn advanced magic. There was only so much he could do teaching himself spells from spell-books with no practical application—Harry needed a tutor. Someone whom he could trust completely; who was adept at defending against dark magic.

One name stuck out in Harry's mind and he knew the person would agree that Harry needed to be trained. He wouldn't write a letter this time, though. He'd go see them in person.

Just as Harry turned to get dressed, another owl swooped in through the open window. The tawny perched on Harry's desk and completely ignored Hedwig and Draco's Phil. Phil seemed perturbed by this and ruffled his feathers indignantly.

Harry untied the letter from the owl's leg and sent it on its way after giving it an owl treat. He hadn't recognized the owl, so it wasn't from one of his friends. He sat down at his desk and unrolled the letter.

_Potter,_

_You idiotic child. What would possess you to send a letter to a Death Eater with your own owl, one that sticks out for miles? I have always believed you to be as arrogant and dimwitted as your father, but this certainly takes the prize for stupidity._

_You have no cause to trust me, nor any indication that I am not, in fact, a true Death Eater. For all you knew I could have handed your letter over to the Dark Lord and rejoined the Order as a spy for him. As it is, you are lucky._

_I will be at the Order's former Headquarters tomorrow at 8 am, sharp. Do not bring anyone. Do not tell anyone._

_-SS_

Harry stared at the letter in his hand. He was filled with battling desires, one to crush the letter in his fist and tear it into tiny pieces for the snarky insults thrown at him in Snape's spiky writing, and two to jump up and down with happiness that they hadn't lost their spy.

After reading the letter through once more, Harry took out his wand and burned it. He stared at the wall in front of him, thinking. Things were starting to come together for him.

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><p>Please review! I like to know what you think!<p>

much love.

Edited: 10/23/12


	7. Chapter 7

Hey guys, sorry for the wait! Again, I've been writing this chapter on my blackberry in waiting rooms and hospital rooms, so this is the first time I've had a chance to sit down and type it up on my computer. Chapter 8 is in progress, so hopefully it won't be too long! I appreciate all the reviews, and everyone who's taken the time to read this story. You guys are great! Much love.

**Disclaimer:** They're not mine! I just really like them.

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><p>By the time Malfoy woke up it was almost noon, and Harry was beginning to go stir-crazy. He had never slept late in his life, and hadn't even realized it was possible to sleep for over 12 hours straight. Harry had already showered, read a chapter in a defensive spell book that he had bought at the beginning of the summer via owl order, and avoided three run-ins with Petunia and Vernon Dursley in his attempts to scavenge food by the time Malfoy began stirring.<p>

"It's about time," Harry grumbled, then grinned as he dodged a pillow thrown at his head. "Come on, Malfoy, I have things to do today. You have to get up."

"So why didn't you just go already?" Malfoy groaned from where he half-hid under the comforter.

Harry snorted, "Right, I'm sorry, I was supposed to just leave a Death Eater in my room with all my belongings, in my Muggle family's house."

Malfoy sat up, suddenly wide awake. "What are you going to do?" he asked nervously.

Harry grinned at the blonde, "Don't worry, I have a great plan."

Several minutes later Harry was walking out the front door with a wide grin splitting his face and Malfoy's wand tucked in his pocket. Once his cousin had realized that without his wand Malfoy couldn't do magic he had readily agreed to keep an eye on him for the afternoon. When Harry left Dudley's room his cousin had been 'explaining' how to use a game controller to play video games. After Dudley's unexpected apology yesterday, Harry wasn't expecting any trouble.

Harry walked into an alleyway close to number four and focused on remembering his apparition lessons. Destination. Determination. Deliberation.

He clenched his eyes shut and twirled on the spot, and was pleased, and a bit relieved, to find himself in front of the Ministry when he opened his eyes. He walked into the atrium and went to the desk.

"Harry Potter to see Alastor Moody," he told the guard, who stared unashamedly as he handed over a badge.

"Er, thanks," Harry started, uncomfortably, "could you tell me how to get to Moody's office, please?"

When Scrimgeour had taken office, he had pulled Moody, and several other seasoned Aurors out of retirement, saying that he needed the best of the best working to defeat You-Know-Who. From what Harry had heard, Moody was thrilled.

Harry spent the walk to Moody's office trying to convince himself that this was a smart decision and trying not to talk himself out of it.

Just as he stopped in front of Moody's office the door was flung open and Moody grabbed him by the shirt collar and dragged him inside the office, shutting the door quickly behind them.

"Are you stupid, boy? Coming into the Ministry in the middle of the day? Whatever possessed you to behave so rashly?" Moody growled at him.

"Moody," Harry started, once he got his breath back, "It's good to see you."

Moody just stared at him with his good eye, the magical one rolling freely in its socket, never resting in one place for long.

"I, er, well, I have a favour to ask you," Harry told the grizzled man, and waited for his reaction.

"What kind of favour?" the Auror asked suspiciously.

"I was wondering if you would, erm, teach me," Harry stuttered out.

"Teach you what?" Moody asked.

"Well, um, I'm not going to be able to defeat Voldemort with the limited knowledge of spells I have from school, and what am I supposed to do if I lost my wand?" Harry started, gaining confidence as he continued, "I need to know how to defend myself, and hold my own, and..." Harry trailed off here, unwilling to say what he was thinking.

"And?" Moody prompted, staring at Harry intensely.

"And I have to be able to kill," Harry whispered, staring at his shoes, unwilling to say the words in a louder tone, as if that would make it more real.

Moody scrutinized Harry for a moment, then nodded sharply.

"Good," he said out loud, making Harry look up at him, "you're aware of what you need to do, and realize that you're under-equipped to do it. Getting help is the smartest thing you could do. We begin now."

Moody whipped out his wand and Harry was sent flying into the wall before he had even absorbed Moody's words. He scrambled painfully to his feet and pulled his wand out.

"You have to realize that the Dark Lord isn't going to wait for you to be ready before he starts casting spells," Moody told Harry in his gravelly voice, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Harry fought the urge to laugh, despite the pain in his back from being thrown against a wall, and watched Moody's wand warily. Apparently the 'constant vigilance' hadn't been a Crouch thing - he had actually been imitating Moody.

"Alright, Potter, let's go find a practice room where there's space." Moody walked towards Harry and tapped his wand over Harry's head, disillusioning him before they walked into the hallway together with Harry holding Moody's arm so that the Auror didn't lose him.

Moody led Harry down another level, and into a large, sound-proofed room. The room held people-shaped dummies holding fake wands against one wall, and a vast array of exercise equipment against the other. Moody locked the door behind them and removed the disillusionment charm from Harry.

"We'll train in here," Moody began without delay, "Daily. You will spend two hours in this room; the first hour working your body-running, lifting weights, push-ups, etcetera, and the next hour you will work with me on spell work or whatever we deem necessary.

"Today we will skip the athletic portion. I want you to learn how to feel magic before we do anything else. If you can feel magic itself then you can tell when someone is going to attempt to curse you, and learn to block it before they even cast. The first step is to learn to feel it within yourself."

Harry stared at the veteran Auror for a moment, wondering how he was supposed to be able to feel magic.

"Close your eyes, Potter, and stop thinking. Feel. Cast a spell and notice where the magic comes within you. Feel it move."

Harry closed his eyes and raised his wand. With the Auror watching him he felt extremely self-conscious.

"Lumos," Harry said, thinking of the easiest spell he could. The back of his eyelids lit up as the spell worked, but Harry didn't feel anything. He opened his eyes, disappointed.

"Focus, boy," Moody said, "Focus on what you're doing. In order for your wand tip to light up you have to send the magic into it. The wand pulls magic from _you._ Focus on that feeling!"

Harry extinguished the light and closed his eyes again. He took a deep breath and relaxed, mentally taking stock of how his body felt. There was a dull ache in his mid-back from his earlier collision with the wall, his head throbbed a bit from the ever-present headache that emanated from his scar. His stomach was roiling from lack of food-he had left most of the food he scrounged this morning for his new roommate. Harry dug deeper within himself and felt his blood pumping rhythmically through the vessels in his throat and eyelids.

He cast 'lumos' wordlessly, focusing internally, and was startled to feel movement deep within his core in the center of his chest, behind his ribcage. He lost the source as his wand lit up, but now he knew what he was looking for. Without opening his eyes, Harry cast the spell once more, and turned his full attention to that small movement, following it into himself.

Suddenly Harry found himself bathed in warmth as he prodded the internal source of the movement. Everywhere, from his fingertips to his toes, was warm. Harry could feel his hair stand on end, and he smiled: he had done it! He let go of the sensation and opened his eyes just in time to see his wand tip go out. Harry turned to Moody to tell the older man that he had felt it, but the words died on his tongue when he saw the man's face.

"What? Did I do something wrong?" Harry asked worriedly. Moody looked flabbergasted, and it took him a moment to respond.

"Potter, there may be hope for you yet," Moody finally said, his gruff tone replaced by one that was almost wonder.

"...thank you?" it was almost a question.

"Did you mean to make yourself light up like that?" Mood asked, and it was Harry's turn to gape.

"Excuse me?" he managed to ask.

"I'll take that as a 'no,' then," Moody chuckled.

"What did I do?" Harry asked eagerly.

Moody grinned as he responded, "First of all, you cast that lumos charm wordlessly. It lit your wand, and I'm guessing that you found your magical core, because you lit yourself up like a beacon as well.

Harry stared at the Auror for the moment, then sat down on the floor hard. "How did I do that?"

"Tell me what you felt," Moody replied.

"When I cast the spell—"

"Wordlessly," Moody broke in.

"Right, well, when I cast the spell wordlessly I felt a sort of movement inside me, so I followed it. I found the magic inside me!" Harry smiled as he remembered the feeling. He was both excited and amazed now that he realized what he had actually done, "I found it, and I submerged myself in it. It was warm."

Moody grinned at him, and the expression softened his features. "When you 'submerged yourself in it,' you probably spread your magic throughout your body. You were thinking of light, so your magic illuminated your body from the inside. We'll work on that. If you can find your core without having to follow a trail down into it, you should be able to do wandless magic no problem. We'll also continue to work on wordless spells. If you didn't have to shout the spell you'd have more of the element of surprise. How's your Occlumency?"

Harry stared at the man for a moment before realizing he was waiting for a reply. "Not good, sir. Snape tried to teach me once, but it didn't work."

Moody snorted contemptuously, "Of course it didn't, Snape's a bloody Death Eater! I doubt he actually wanted you to learn anything that would help you defeat You-Know-Who."

Harry kept his mouth shut at this, filing the knowledge that Moody firmly believed Snape was against them away for deliberation later.

"Well, I think we have an idea of where we're heading with these lessons now, Potter. Come back tomorrow, same time, but wear your Invisibility Cloak - we don't need everyone knowing Harry Bloody Potter's wandering around the Ministry and meeting with someone inside. We'll meet in front of this room. Can you find your way back?" Harry nodded, and was quickly taught the disillusionment charm before they walked out the door.

"Tomorrow, then, Potter," Moody murmured, and strode off down the hallway, his false leg thudding every other step. Harry stood outside the room for a moment, watching him leave, then headed towards the lifts.

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><p>Hope you guys enjoyed! Please review!<p>

Edited: 10/23/12

Much love.


	8. Chapter 8

Heyguys! Sorry for such a long wait! Not much happens in this chapter, but I promise we're getting closer! Soon we'll be meeting Snape, and learning defense, and all sorts of fun things. But for now...we've got to get the domestic stuff out of the way.

Also, sorry it's so short!

DISCLAIMER: They're not mine.

Hope you enjoy!

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><p>Draco stared at the boy in front of him as Potter left the house. This was one of the people who had made Potter's life miserable at home. In the past, Draco might've nodded approvingly at him, or shaken his hand—something to show that they were united in their hatred of the 'Boy-Who-Lived.' Now Draco just felt shame, and some disgust in allowing himself to be grouped with this Muggle boy.<p>

The boy—Dudley? What sort of name was that?—was holding a grey something and pointing at bits of colour on it as he explained that pushing the bits caused a character on the screen-thing in front of him to react. Draco took the something—Potter's cousin was calling it a controller?—and began experimenting. Once he had the 'controller' figured out, Dudley started a game.

An hour later, Draco pitched the controller at the screen and sat up from his undignified (and very un-Malfoy-like) sprawl on the floor to turn a glare onto the boy.

"We are no longer playing this game," he declared haughtily.

"You're just sore because you're losing!" Dudley exclaimed hotly. "I want to keep playing, so come on, pick the controller back up, and don't throw it again, by the way."

"I don't think you understood me, Muggle. I _said_ we are no longer playing this game. Find something else." Draco looked down his nose at Potter's cousin disdainfully. Who was he to question a Malfoy?

"Yeah?" Dudley asked smugly, "And what're you gonna do about it? I want to play another round. Get your controller."

Draco rolled his eyes and ignored the fat boy's taunts. He merely leaned back against the wall and raised an eyebrow at the Dursley in a manner he knew to be infuriating.

Eventually the boys came to a compromise, one more game, then they would find something different to occupy their time. When they finished their game, with Dudley emerging yet again as the uncontested winner, the boys decided they needed a change of scene entirely.

"Let's go watch the telly downstairs," Dudley decided for them. "We can tell my mum that you're a new friend from school. We won't mention that you're actually Harry's friend."

Draco agreed, not bothering to correct the assumption that he and Potter were friends, and the two boys headed downstairs. Petunia wasn't around, so they settled themselves in front of the screen, no explanations necessary.

"What's Harry really like?" Dudley asked suddenly, surprising Draco, who contemplated the question seriously for a moment, before responding.

"I think you're asking the wrong person," he said. "Since coming here I'm learning that I've always put him in a role, made him fit into my perception of him, and he's not actually anything like what I thought."

"What did you think he was like?" Dudley asked curiously, and Draco just held in a sigh. Of course it would be the one Muggle he'd ever actually met who made him go all introspective and self-analysing.

"I've always thought he was stuck-up; the perfect, spoiled little hero-boy. I thought that he always got his way, that life was easy for him," Draco started, " I believed that I was the only one who could see the snob that he was. I thought Dumbledore favoured him, that he always got his own way."

"I thought Harry said you two were friends," Dudley said. "Does that mean that you changed your mind? You don't think he's like that anymore?"

Draco was silent again for a moment before responding, "Potter and I have never been friends. There was a time when I would have given anything to be friends with him, though," Draco paused, then added, "I think he puts up with a lot more than he acts like he has."

"Why'd he let you come here, then, if you're not friends? Why's he letting you live with us?" Dudley asked, confused.

"I came to him for help," Draco admitted. "There's terrible things going on in our world, and I...found myself right in the middle of it. I wrote to him for help, not actually expecting anything. If he'd been in my place I can't say that I would have helped him." Draco took a breath, "He's a better person than I am; than I thought he was."

...&...

Harry apparated back into the alley down the street from his home and cancelled the disillusionment charm while he was out of the sight line of any of the neighbours. Harry casually strolled back to number four and let himself in. Distracted by his thoughts on his lesson with Moody, he didn't notice Vernon's car parked in the driveway.

Harry headed for the stairs, but stopped when he heard voices coming from the living room. Petunia was in the kitchen, so he was careful to sneak past her to investigate, stopping short when he saw two familiar heads sitting together.

Just as Harry went to enter the room he heard a bellow that made him freeze in place.

"BOY!" Vernon's voice echoed around the house, and Harry turned stiffly to face him, determinedly ignoring the look of shock on Malfoy's face as the blonde head popped up, trying to hide the burning red that suffused his face. "Are you _spying_ on Dudley and his friend, boy?"

"No, of course not," Harry told his uncle, casting his thoughts around to find a suitable excuse. "I was just going to ask if they wanted me to bring them anything to drink!"

The reply seemed to appease Vernon a bit, but it didn't stop the acid comments Vernon loved to make.

"Get upstairs, boy, Dudley doesn't need a _freak_ like you scaring his friends away." Vernon said. "For all we know, freak could be contagious. Get up to your room before I drag you up there myself."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon, of course" Harry said bitterly, and turned to walk upstairs, using every ounce of his self-control to avoid Malfoy's gaze as he left the room.

As Harry left the room, he heard his uncle apologize to Malfoy for his 'deranged nephew,' and introduce himself properly before he managed to tune Vernon's voice out completely.

_Great._ Harry thought, _now Malfoy knows all about how I live here. More fodder for Potter-bashing. Wonderful._

Harry flung himself across his bed and buried his face into his pillow. He was, unsurprisingly, rather sore from his training session that morning, and he just wanted to lie there for the rest of the afternoon and pretend that Malfoy and the Dursleys didn't exist at all.

...&...

Draco stared at the large man in front of him.

"Deranged?" he asked, eventually.

"Oh yes," Vernon Dursley replied, "I'm afraid he's quite mad. Bad genes on his father's side, we believe. It can't be helped. We do what we can for him, though. He attends St. Brutus' School for Hopeless Cases, you know. We're hoping that it'll knock some sense into him."

Draco felt himself growing more angry at every word Potter's uncle said. Weeks previously, he may have laughed at every insult that was casually flung in Potter's direction, but not today. Draco had watched as Potter had tried to hide his embarrassment, as he had accepted the insults and meekly obeyed the orders, and it had made Draco feel sick and incredibly curious at the same time.

"I see," Draco replied to Vernon, and gave a plastic smile. Vernon smiled back, satisfied, and returned to the kitchen to talk to his wife.

"Potter just puts up with that?" Draco asked, incredulously. The Harry Potter he knew from school would never have allowed someone to call him names and order him around. Potter was stubborn and proud.

"He fights back a lot," Dudley replied quietly, "but sometimes he just takes it quietly, like you saw. His reactions, I think, are based on my dad. Harry's learned to read him pretty well."

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, then changed his mind. "No, you know what, I'll ask Potter. I'm going to go upstairs and talk to him."

With that, Draco headed for the stairs.

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><p>Thanks for reading, guys! I hope you enjoyed it! Please review!<p>

Edited: 10/23/12


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